


pink dolphins

by parhelions



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Canon, in rare pair hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7392028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parhelions/pseuds/parhelions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strawberry jam, a wet mop of a dog, and doves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pink dolphins

 

 

There are fingers carding through his hair when he wakes up.

The sunlight must've shifted sometime during his nap, as his bare feet feel hot, tingling, wrapped up in a light sheen of still air. He wiggles his toes experimentally. 

“Your hair's getting long," Tazaki says as soon as he notices.

“Hmm. Does it look bad?"

“No."

A thumb sweeps down the curve of his cheek, rests on the tiny mole on the underside of his jaw. It's quiet. The kind of quiet that comes and goes in waves, stirring books left open on spaces free from tea cups and sticky breakfast plates.

“That's good."

“It's my humble opinion, of course."

“Which is worth a lot," he teases. "More than your weight in gold."

“I don't know if I should be insulted or flattered," Tazaki says, amusement in his soft tone. “Since I've been unconditioned lately. You know, losing tone and density and all that."

Doubtful, Amari takes a pinch of his leg and feels, as expected, the tough cords of muscles. “Do Jitsui and Hatano not drag you off to spar anymore?"

“Not for a while." Tazaki snorts. “Hatano might've sprained his wrist."

“What did he do this time?"

“Jitsui did it. An accident. Or a lover's spat, if I didn't know any better."

“Tragic."

His neck feels funny and he should clean up before Emma gets home from school, but he doesn't move from the warm lap. On afternoons like these, he's content to remain submerged in the calm, collected bath that is Tazaki's presence.

“Did you walk Frate yet?"

“Of course."

“...You didn't, did you?"

“I did."

“It rained last night," Tazaki muses, jabbing at his throat. “And that dog is more absorbent than a floor mop."

He swats the pinky away and sighs into firm thighs. “Alright, alright. But I could've cleaned off the mud."

"Unlikely. You're too lazy to clear the kitchen table."

“Parenting takes a toll on your health." He yawns for good measure. “Not that you would know."

“I do know."

He blinks up at Tazaki, who's smearing strawberry jam off his chin, looking intent on the task. “Don't tell me you've started a family without me knowing."

“You're obtuse," Tazaki says evenly. “I have circus rings of nieces and nephews to babysit."

“Ah. So a whole eager audience for your card tricks, then?"

“They're unimpressed. I was the youngest of my siblings, after all, so their children are teenagers.  _Teenagers_ , a tough crowd."

“I'm still amazed," Amari protests, fighting a laugh at the visual of Tazaki under the fire of imaginary rotten tomatoes.

“And that's why we're still friends."

He grins, and Tazaki returns it, throwing in a wink that makes him feel lighter than ever. Little by little, he's being slipped secrets, little white pearls of what the other thinks of him.

 

* 

 

His clock chirps twice and conks out during the third repetition. At Tazaki's shift, he reluctantly sits up, walking to the kitchen table. He might as well do the chores before he procrastinates any further or takes another nap.

“Your cuckoo clock sounds like it's dying for breath," Tazaki observes, stretching his arms above his head.

Amari recognizes the keen suggestion at once. “Have at it."

Tazaki smirks a little. He walks over and clears stacks of books from a stool in one motion, papers fluttering to the floor.

“Where's your screwdriver?"

“It should be in the pencil cup-"

“Found it. And, you kept the fountain pen I fixed for you, didn't you?" Tazaki gives him a contented smile before turning back around.

“Of course," he says, recalling the memory. "You spent an hour taking it apart, so how could I not?" He takes the china and silverware to the sink, twisting on the faucet.

“Even though Frate chewed on it?"

“It's part of the charm," he responds smoothly. He's almost out of soap, he realizes too late. Emma must've become fond with making gigantic iridescent bubbles after Tazaki's demonstration.

“The same charm that makes every teacher become smitten with you during parent-teacher conferences?"

“I should hope not." He fakes a shudder. “How do you know about that, anyways?"

“I have ears. It's rather fascinating."

“Really."

He tears his eyes away from pretty hands dismantling the clock's gears, quick and sure. Whatever Tazaki had done prior to the agency, he tinkers with machines and toys as easily as shuffling a deck of cards. The handyman in town, courteous as he is enigmatic. He wonders if Tazaki had caught wind of the gratitude he'd garnered throughout the street. Admiration in the neighborhood children's hearts, in conversations on porch-swings, in the gap between his ribs.

He's getting more and more sentimental, the older he gets.

“Is this Swiss-made?" Tazaki asks, unleashing a clatter of metal that he suppresses a wince at.

“It is." He sets the last plate on the rack to dry. “Kaminaga gave it to me as a souvenir."

“He's becoming well-traveled."

He shrugs, leaning against a counter to watch Tazaki work. “I guess it's both nice and boring to settle down somewhere. For some people, at least." There's an itch to balance on the edge, sometimes, and relive the thrills of discovering intel. But it fades soon enough. Unlike some of the others, who flit from one challenge to the next, pushing the boundaries to their talents.

Teaching Emma to ride a bicycle without training wheels gives him enough palpitations to last a decade or two.  

“I can see that. And - you went to Hawaii, didn't you? That one year."

Tazaki unfastens another bolt and rolls up his sleeves. A new wristwatch, Amari notices. It looks nice with his forearms.

“Yes. Honolulu, in fact."

“Hmm," Tazaki responds distractedly, looking lost in thought. A spring bounces off, and Amari catches it in mid-flight. Tazaki nods in approval.

“Aren't you going to ask if the scenery was breathtaking?" he quips, depositing the piece into a waiting palm. “Did you miss me?"

“I don't know. Lying under the palm trees and looking out into the Pacific seems pleasant enough." Tazaki slides a wooden panel back into place. “Also, closer to yes than no, to your second question."

He laughs softly at that, picking up the crossword to pass the half hour before school dismisses. “Even with all your birds for company?"   

"Possibly."

 

*

 

The front door slides open, right on time. 

“Papa!"

He holds open his arms for Emma to leap into, the sunflowers in her hands tickling his ears. Another empty jar to be rinsed and filled with tap water, and he'll make room for it on his cluttered desk, somehow. Until the petals brown and dangle and fall onto open books and she'll pick more. He's glad to be alive.

Frate bounds in from outside, and Emma lets go to embrace the wild mass of fur, rocking on her heels. She sets the flowers down on the countertop before skipping over to Tazaki, who seems satisfied with the clock as he tightens the last bolt.

A pause, a delighted intake of breath.

“Papa ‘Zaki!"

“Emma." Tazaki grins down at her, gracefully accepting the abrupt hug around his shins.

“Please don't make Tazaki-san lose his balance and fall," Amari says, amused. Even though Tazaki could disarm an opponent on a train hurtling forth at one-hundred-and-ten kilometers per hour, a tidbit he'd gleaned from reports long-ago.

“I won't," she promises, holding on for a few seconds longer before running off, books in hand and Frate right behind her. She waves back at them and dashes farther into the garden.

Beaming, Amari sits down at his desk. He glimpses Tazaki's small smile _(it's fixed_ ) as he climbs down from the stool.

“Care to stay for dinner?" Amari asks, a question he'd asked (and gotten acceptances and rejections in equal parts) several times before. He cracks open a novel to a random page while mentally cataloging his cupboards for ingredients.

“Sure." Tazaki drops the screwdriver back into his pencil cup, braces his elbows behind him on his wooden chair.

“It'll be hot pot, most likely."

“In May?"

“It's my lone specialty." He feels Tazaki exhale a disbelieving breath on the back of his neck. Whether he's implying Amari has more talents than only hot pot or lacks them completely is uncertain. “My little sisters praised me, if you care to know."

“And how long ago was that?" _Magic fades without practice, Amari-san._

He hums in response. Just as he moves to flip the page, Tazaki snatches his hand away. The contact sends pleasant warmth down to his toes.  

“Wait a second. I'm still on this page."

And Tazaki reads over his shoulder, just like he'd done over reports, crime scene photos, newspapers laced in invisible ink. The difference is a chin coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Alright. Keep going."

He uses his other hand to turn the page, and another. They finish the chapter before Tazaki nudges him over on the chair, sitting down so their sides are pressed together and their buttocks hang over the edges and it's honestly uncomfortable except it's-him.

After all this time, Amari supposes he can indulge in another thrill in his old-not-really-old age.

“Tazaki."

“Hmm?"

Gently, he presses his lips to the corner of Tazaki's mouth and feels the skin there fall slack in surprise, open and uncharted and then curving up a precarious instant later--a smile, soft as a dove's wing.

 

*

 

“Be careful, you might squish Isaac Newton. His beak's rather fragile."

"Just--"

 

**Author's Note:**

> slightly inspired by [these](https://twitter.com/mokka1003/status/747076353938186244) lovely pictures from twitter. 
> 
> ahhh i need more fics of the birb man + dolphin whisperer
> 
> thank you for reading!


End file.
